“Wait.”

He turns to look at me, heaving his body so it’s one big sigh like I’m keeping him from brain surgery.

“Yeah,” I say. “I rest. I rest just like anyone else.”

He shakes his head. The corner of his mouth pulls into a grin. “You’re an easy mark, kid.”

“My name’s Locke.”

“And my name’s Xavier. You gotta problem with that?”

Touché. I could almost like this guy if he wasn’t such a jerk.

“That it?” he asks.

“No. Carver said you’d explain how all this would get me into the Secretary’s house.”

“Oh, yeah. That.” He smiles. “File Fifty-two.” He points to the desk. “You better start crankin’ up that charm. You’ve got a long ways to go.”

He leaves without further explanation and I go straight to the desk and bring up File Fifty-two and read it. No wonder they both left before I could look at it.

The In

File 52

Raine Branson (pronounced: rayn)

Age: 17

I stare at the girl I’m supposed to abduct. When I agreed to a favor, I never agreed to this, but there’s no turning back now. Of course kidnapping is Plan B. Only if the first plan fails. I guess I’ll have to make sure it doesn’t. I quickly flip through the holograms. One image is pretty much like the next. Her expression doesn’t change. Grim. Bored. It’s hard to tell what’s going on in her head, but smiling isn’t part of her repertoire. Every hair is smoothed into place and pulled back into a long ponytail tied at the base of her neck. Utilitarian. Jet black and severe. The Secretary’s daughter.

There are ten images but nearly all are the same. Same hair, same range of expression. Zero. I go through them again, this time slower, examining her features more closely. I’m looking at the fourth image, a full frontal view, her lips slightly parted like she’s about to speak, when I stop and turn my attention to my arms, a prickling sensation shooting through them. I watch one arm as the hairs on it literally rise before my eyes. This has never happened to me before. It’s like the BioPerfect has suddenly found this long dormant animal response and is testing it. I’m almost fascinated by this beastly reaction but in the next second my stomach clenches and a flash of heat hits me. My heart pounds. I look back at her image. Sweat beads on my forehead. This is insane. Something isn’t right.

Something isn’t right about her.

I stand up and walk away from the desk, pacing the room, trying to shake off the alarms I don’t understand. Is my body telling me something before my mind has put it together? The alarms subside. Was it just a random hiccup in my BioPerfect? I return to the desk and increase the image size. I look into her blank eyes, just inches from mine. Her irises are large and dark, such a deep dark brown I can barely see her pupils. But I do. They’re pinpoints, tight and guarded, on alert, belying her bored expression. What’s she hiding? But her face reveals nothing else. She’s had practice at this. Is that what disturbed me?

I look back through the file. The information is sparse.

Mother: deceased

At least we have something in common.

Schooling: The Virtual Collective

Not a clue. I swipe my iScroll and the Assistant appears. “What’s a virtual collective?”

“To activate, please give Assistant a user name.”

A name? But then I remember having to give my boxing instructor a name with my last iScroll. “Percel,” I say.

“Welcome to the Assistant, sir.”

“Locke. My name is Locke.”

“How can I be of service, Locke?”

I repeat my question for him.

“The Virtual Collective is a state-approved educational program.”

“What does the program do?”

“It provides guidelines and requirements for students who are in independent study programs.”

“So they don’t go to an actual school?”

“An actual school, sir?”

“You know, walls, bells, lockers, detention, that sort of thing? Real people seeing one another face-to-face?”

“Anchored Educational Systems exist within walled units for students who prefer that structure. No matches for the bells, lockers, and detention portion of your inquiry.”

“Thank you, Percel. That’s all.” He blinks and disappears back into my palm.

So, she doesn’t go to school. She’s isolated. Is that why she’s bored? I read more of the file.

Interests: Fencing. Chess. Bonsai.

Bonsai? Seriously? Having an odd interest is one thing, but something doesn’t ring true about having three. She’s seventeen years old. Girls couldn’t have changed that much in 260 years. Those all sound like old man hobbies.

Objective: Ingratiate yourself with Raine and her friends

They really have a way with words. And she has friends? That’s a surprise. Or are they all virtual? What kind of life does she lead?

First Meeting: 09/19/21

I push away from the desk and walk to the window. So this is my in with Secretary Branson? Get in good with his daughter and her friends so I’m invited over? Carver and Xavier couldn’t do better than that? And our first meeting is two weeks away? How’s that going to happen if she doesn’t even go to school?

I turn and look back at her image. I zoom in on her mouth, poised to speak, and I try to imagine what she’s about to say. I follow the lines of her lips, the curves, looking for a clue, and my pulse begins to race again. There’s something disturbingly familiar about her, but that’s impossible. I’m certain I’ve never laid eyes on her before. Yeah, something isn’t right.